@mooncheetah asked for a glimpse of the past
Being a wrecker had given breakdown a family he had never had before. On velocitron he had always been left behind, slower, bulkier, far from the racers the planet admired. Feeling accepted for the first time had made him turn a blind eye to a lot of other things.
They went in, they destroyed their targets, they left ruin in their wake. It was all for a good cause, wasn't it? They were battling the decepticons, fighting the good fight, for justice and peace. Freedom for all.
He had no reason to question that early on in the war. Their team was an echo chamber, they drank high grade together after every mission and boasted about the wreckage they'd left in their wake. It was where their moniker came from after all.
All it took was one mission gone awry for that to fall down around him. Abandoned behind enemy lines, left for dead, slumped up against a wall trying to hold in a major energon leak. A realisation of how hollow their camaraderie had been. They were disposable. Cannon fodder in a war with no end in sight.
"Well, I never expected to find someone alive in this mess. You must be real heavy duty."
A voice purred from above him. A cherry red racer. No insignia, but it couldn't have been one of theirs. No one was coming to save him.
"Just kill me quickly 'con. I'm a foot soldier, I've got nothing for you."
What does he have to live for anyway? It was all a lie.
Something in his despondent spark must have spoken to the decepticon, who only looked at him softly, clawed hands opening a medical bag and setting to work.
"I'm not leaving you here to die like the autobots did. Waste of a good frame, if you ask me."
Maybe there was hope yet. Maybe if a stranger (a decepticon no less) could care for a discarded weapon of war like him, he still had a chance of truly living.
"...Don't make me regret giving you a chance."
